


Snow, snow...

by Pikkulef



Series: Daredevil Post S3 Collection [8]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22016800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikkulef/pseuds/Pikkulef
Summary: Matt tries to carry on through a blizzard, but the snow and his mind wandering to old memories won't let him.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios, Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Series: Daredevil Post S3 Collection [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241843
Comments: 25
Kudos: 32
Collections: 12 Days of Karedevil





	1. Chapter 1

Foggy huffed. 

"This blizzard announcement really fucks with our plans."

He'd been whining all day, checking up the weather every ten minutes. But he had stopped checking as the first snow flakes had started storming - yes, storming all at once - by the window. 

Matt had warned him, a few minutes ahead.

It was like a white noise blanket was falling over New York, and it was fast. 

No, not really white noise. It was like a noise that cancelled all the others. Not silence, but the antithesis of sound. A storm of cotton; a moving, formless wall that blocked his perceptions. 

Needless to say, Foggy wasn't the only one whose plans were going south, with this happening. Matt tilted his head, checking that there was no client left in the next room, nor in the corridor, and went : "You're not the one who needs to run errands on rooftops tonight, Fogs."

He was putting a bunch of files in his case, ready to go home after their last meeting of the day. Go home, get some light food, kiss Karen, and get running. 

"No one asks you to do this. In fact I forbid you to. With that weather…" 

"We need that info tonight. I can't let it pass. I need to catch that guy -" 

"Leblanche." 

" _Leblanc_."

"Excuse me, mister _I-dated-a-French-speaking-crazy-rich-girl-in-college_. Leblanc. Fitting name right? Means white, right? How you gonna find anything white in a snowstorm?" 

"I don't think the storm would be the problem here."

Matt grinned at their banter, but he was still unsure of how the evening was going to unfold. He was planning to trace Leblanc by the scent - gunpowder, bad cigarettes and some slight aniseed, like an afterthought - that had been left in his flat they had visited a day earlier. The man had fled, after dropping names to the police. But he had also given a wrong name - his and Foggy's client's. Matt needed to know at least why he'd done so. 

But this storm wasn't going to make it easy for him. 

Foggy had a last call to make, so Matt waved him goodbye, bracing himself before opening the front door. 

He stepped out, and the world exploded to his senses. Icy wind rushed to his face, throwing an endless stream of snowflakes on his sensitive skin, that felt like a flight of freezing mosquito bites. The same wind howled to his ears, but the usual life sounds and noises of the city it should carry were muted, muffled, and distorted, as the snow, both already on the ground and in the air, absorbed and deflected them. It made it a nightmare to get an idea of his surroundings, and for now he only had to walk home. Later, it would be harder still. 

Matt winced, and buried what he could of his face in his scarf. There was already almost too much snow on the ground for his cane to be effective - when he would have needed it, at least to help a little, for once. 

Matt sighed. It was only a couple of blocks, and he could get there a lot faster if he didn't have to pretend. But he went on, his mood going from irritated to quite frustrated. 

He could barely hear the snow crunching under his feet. There must be something like two inches of it already, and it had not snowed an hour. 

He used to love that sound. He used to love snow. 

_"Dad ! Dad, look!"_

_A five or six years old Matt runs to Jack, taking his hand, his enormous hand, in his own soggy and cold mitten, and drags him towards a very sorry looking snowman._

_"I made a snowman! Look. It's you."_

_He pulls on Jack's hand, Jack who's already laughing, to show him the back of the snowman, where Matt has carved "Battling Jack" in big letters._

_Matt stops, a little offended by his dad's laugh. Jack notices, and tries to be serious._

_"It's good, Matty."_

_"It's small." Matt is easily upset. He wants what he does to be great for his dad._

_Jack's hand lands at the top of his head, ruffling his hair through his beanie._

_"No, Matty, it's great, I love it. I just think you missed… something…" Jack crouches down in front of the snowman, his head now level with Matt's. He reaches for the pebble Matt has used to figure his nose and skews it a little. "That nose was a little too straight for a boxer, don't you think?"_

_Matt laughs, Jack grabs him by the arm -_

"I'll help you cross the street, young man." 

Coming to his senses, Matt realized he was at a crossroad, with a man who was not his father tugging on his left arm. With some concentration, he could make out his surroundings, and sighed in relief. His mind had wandered, but his feet had brought him home. 

"Thanks, but I don't - 

"Traffic is crazy here." The man tugged harder. "It's too dangerous, I won't let you - 

"No, I mean I don't _need_ to cross!" 

"Come on, man, it's not -" 

Calculating his move precisely so as to pull his arm with enough strength to get it back but not to harm the passerby, Matt stepped back. To the surprise of the other, he got his arm back, but not without "accidentally" smacking the man's face in the process. No real harm, though. But it was too tempting. 

"Sorry. Uh. I live here. I don't need to cross. Good evening." 

Matt turned on his heel and got to his building as fast as he could, both because he was fed up with the blizzard, and because the man was getting angry at him. Ugh, he hated these people. 

As soon as he closed the front door behind him, the noise and wind faded, helping him relax in a bubble of relative calm. Another factor was the lingering flowery perfume in the staircase. 

Karen was in his flat, and this was something he never wanted to get used to. 


	2. Chapter 2

Karen was in the kitchen, making tea. They'd seen each other at the firm in the morning, then she'd left for a string of meetings for her investigations. 

About the Leblanc guy. 

"What should we do for dinner, tonight?" she asked as he kissed her. Matt liked the simplicity of that question; he enjoyed the touch of her skin, still fresh, so she must have come in not too long ago. He wondered if he could follow Foggy's advice and stay in, spend the evening snuggled together on the sofa under a blanket while the wind was howling outside. They had not allowed themselves to enjoy much of their new living together yet. Matt decided he had to pass on eating and get out immediately, or he would not be able to leave her side for the evening. 

And he  _ had _ to. 

"I'm sorry. I'm not staying."

Matt noticed Karen's frustration at this statement, but it was quickly replaced with resolve. 

"Well, then, me neither. I'll reheat the tea. I have a few people to see, still, and they're not the kind to get to sleep early on a Saturday evening. I'll go see them tonight instead of tomorrow."

"Be careful - " Matt cut himself there. They had made a deal : neither of them was to try and stop the other from doing what they felt was their duty. 

" _ You  _ be careful. Don't get killed wearing your new Christmas present, okay ?" 

Her voice was light, but her touch wasn't. 

"And don't turn into Foggy." He kissed her again, and tilted his head towards the window. "I'll wear your present. It's like you knew we'd have a night like this."

"One day or another, that was bound to happen. The question is how did you do before I was there to think about it?" 

She kissed his nose, then turned around to put the tea and food away. 

Matt left to change into his black pants and shirt, adding under it the thin but extremely warm sweater he'd found in Karen's present. He went back to the living room to find her in her coat, waiting for him. 

"Next year, I'll get you tights."

"I hope I'll have a better costume by then." He kissed her forehead. "Stay safe. I won't be able to hear you if -" 

"Matt."

"Sorry." 

"Stay safe, too."

She walked towards the front door and he took the stairs to the roof access. He heard her stop to look at him and turned, pulling down his mask with a smug smile. Karen smiled back at him and left. 

On the roof, the wind almost tore the door from his hand, as soon as he opened it. The wind up there was howling, and even more biting than at street level, without buildings and streets to hinder it. 

There was no way he could get a scent other than the crisp smell of snow mingled with salt from the ocean. Just his luck - it was infuriating, and he was angry, but he expected it. He started towards Leblanc's flat, thinking a new visit could allow him to find new clues. 

Matt had to pause and readjust his direction too often for his taste. Every block, every taller building caused a wind change, new anarchic sounds that he had a hard time making sense of. It took him several minutes to leave his own block, and it repeated again and again every time he had to jump over a street. Frustration and irritation piled up with each wrong turn, each slippery step. 

Concentrating his senses on getting him to destination through this winter hell, he'd rather not let his mind wander off… 

_ "Ready for the fight, Murdock?"  _

_ "Uh, what f-" Matt can't let it show, but he knows what's coming. Contrary to usual, he doesn't turn towards the voice, and avoids most of the snowball that was aimed at him. Some snow still finds its way into his collar, making him shudder and hunch his shoulder against the cold and the humidity.  _

_ "DENT OH MY GOD HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE CAN YOU BE?"  _

_ Matt doesn't know if it's the fact that Dent decided to throw a snowball at him, among all the people currently walking around campus, or if it's Foggy's genuine outrage, but he starts laughing out loud, unable to stop it.  _

_ Foggy stops yelling, still upset but put off by Matt's reaction.  _

_ "You okay?"  _

_ " 'Course I am." Matt, smirking, is already folding his cane and crouching down, grabbing a handful of snow. "Help me get my revenge, would you?"  _

_ Dent, who lives down the hall and is studying law, too, a year ahead of them, is one of the few people who don' t walk on eggshells around Matt, just like Foggy, and Matt likes him for that. Unlike Foggy, though, he's got a twisted sense of humor. But it's sometimes welcome. And he's going to get what he's looking for.  _

_ Foggy would be enchanted to throw a few vicious snowballs at him, too, because Matt knows he doesn't like the guy very much. Too arrogant.  _

_ Indeed, Foggy's already patting on a big snowball, making it as compact as he can - that one will hurt. Matt's snowball is ready too, and he can feel the two others, Dent and his roommate Smirnoff, getting ready too, a few feet away. _

_ "You wanna play, Dent?" Foggy almost shouts. "Matt, if you wanna try, he's roughly at 11 hour." _

_ "Just waiting for him to talk."  _

_ "Oh, you want me to talk, Murdock? What, you want me to tell you what I think of your performance in the debate team last week? So mediocre. When I'm DA, I'll -"  _

_ Matt launches his snowball, which goes straight and fast to crash against Smirnoff 's face. Smirnoff bends, swearing, and Foggy howls with laughter.  _

_ "Missed!" Dent taunts. "What are you, blind?"  _

_ "Oh, but  _ I'm _ not." Foggy says, sending his snowball with force on Dent's shoulder. Foggy knows messing with Dent's clothes will make him more angry than if he aimed for his face.  _

_ "You're dead, Nelson." _

_ They exchange a few more snowballs, getting closer and closer from each other, Matt lagging a little behind, until Smirnoff just jumps on Foggy and tries to get some snow inside his jacket. Foggy yelps, and Matt clumsily catches an arm that belongs to Dent, and suddenly it's just an anarchic brawl between the four of them, mock punches mixing with accidental real ones, snow being intentionally poured into whatever jacket openings they can grab, beanies being tossed away and faces pushed into the snow. Matt notices they still avoid being too rough with him, and of course he is restraining his own capacities, but he's still enjoying himself too much not be a little rough with them. However, he's glad to be spared the blows to the face, if only to protect his glasses… but he isn't the only one wearing some.  _

_ "My glasses! my glasses, dammit!"  _

_ Smirnoff yells, and everyone stops. Matt, who'd been pushed to the ground, rolls onto his back next to Foggy, who picks up the glasses from the ground and hands them to Smirnoff.  _

_ "They're okay. Here." _

_ "Thanks." _

_ Dent takes Matt's arm, pulling him up on his feet.  _

_ "Nice brawl, Murdock, you're pretty good once you've managed to put your hands on a victim."  _

_ "Thanks, Harvey." Matt brushes the snow off his coat, smiling.  _

_ "Y'all want to go grab a chocolate or something?" Dent said. "Don't know about you but all that snow on my neck made me cold. On me." _

_ Foggy might not appreciate Dent that much but Matt can hear him smile as he jumps on the occasion. Maybe he does like him better after that. It was fun. "Sure. Matt?"  _

_ "Yeah I'm all for drinking something warm right now."  _

_ Indeed, ice cold melting snow was dripping down his back, pooling a little over his belt.  _

And it was, once again, but there was no hot chocolate to look forward to, at least not in the near future. 

Karen's sweater did keep him warm, but it could nothing against the wet snow that had been attacking it for the last ten minutes. 

Matt flexed his fingers, trying to push blood back into them. He had not blacked out, merely kept his mind occupied. He was standing above Leblanc's building. It took him longer than usual to scan for a safe entrance - avoiding the front door would allow him not to be seen and not to break the seals the police had applied a day before. 

He got in, but as soon as he passed through the bathroom window, under the fire escape, he knew it had all been for nothing. 

The apartment had been emptied, cleaned by a professional team. His nose was suddenly assaulted by chemicals, enough for him to feel dizzy. No trace of the old gunpowder and aniseed scent he was looking for. Nothing. 

In rage, Matt punched the bathroom medicine cabinet, breaking the mirror that went cascading onto the ground in a crystalline shower. 

Annoyed and frightened whispers immediately rose in the neighboring apartments, prompting him to jump back through the window into the cold. 

The snow that had melted on him while he was inside instantly froze his clothes against his skin. There was nothing to do. If he started looking without a trail, he might not find anything, and above all, in this weather, he might get lost. 

No, he  _ would _ get lost. 

Matt let out a fury filled shout, hidden and carried away instantly by the howling wind and silencing snow. He did start to run aimlessly, then stopped. It would do nothing to add hypothermia to tonight's failure. Karen's voice rang into his mind, asking him half jokingly not to die in his new Christmas present, while her hands were pressing his arms. 

Matt shook his head to clear his thoughts, then turned back and started running home, wishing his blood to run back to his toes and fingers. There was nothing to do. And he was cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember if it's canon (there ARE DD/Batman crossovers and I read them a long time ago) or if it's a headcanon but I've decided good old Harvey Dent went to law school with our avocados. Fight me, lol. 
> 
> As for Smirnoff I needed a fourth guy, so I gave him the name of a comics character I love. Anyone recognizing where he's from (and he does wear glasses at times) gets my eternal love because it's not very known... 
> 
> Anyway I hope that chapter isn't too long/dull. Thanks for reading :)   
> Next chapter... next year. Lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter ! which is as long as the first and second combined because \o/

It happened. 

He got lost. 

Matt had turned and turned in the same corner of Hell's Kitchen, as snow piled up around him, recognizing nothing for almost an hour, before the wind blew in the right direction to send him the smell of the bakery that was down his home street. It was faint, but he held onto it until it guided him to the roof of his building. 

His numb fingers couldn’t feel anything, forcing him to try and listen to the faint clics of the locks he’d placed on the fire escape, straining, for once, over the wind and his own shattering teeth. He clenched them, squaring his jaw. 

Finally, the locks opened. 

His whole body shivering, he found the strength to climb down the stairs and curl up on the sofa, encrusted snow on his back starting to melt into freezing rivulets, but he couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel anything but his teeth chattering and the strain it was putting on his jaw. The rest of his body was uncomfortably numb. 

The flat was empty, Karen still out. 

He was so cold… So… cold… 

Shower. He needed to shower. That’d warm him up. 

Matt got up with a groan, wincing when his uncontrollable teeth bit into his tongue. He walked slowly to the bathroom, getting rid of his wet, half frozen clothes on the way. His deadened fingers made it harder than it should have been, missing the fabric, sliding over it without him noticing, unable to grasp with enough strength to pull. 

He had the fugitive, paralyzing thought that maybe they would stay this way, but his mind was too dazed to think straight, and he focused on the sole purpose of setting the shower on to avoid dwelling on it. 

It felt like he stayed under the water, set to lukewarm at first, for hours, until he started feeling the heat on his body. 

Longer still, until he felt something in his feet, fingers and ears. 

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. It was incredibly painful. As if he could feel his blood flow pushing through all his tiny vessels, almost tearing through his cold constricted flesh. Maybe he could. But it was life flowing back. 

Slowly, his teeth stopped chattering, and he pushed the water to higher temperatures, finally able to relax his body - but not his mind. 

He should have found a way. He should have pursued his search, one way or another. He should have pulled through. Instead of that, he’d allowed himself to be defeated by mere wind and snow. Guilt gnawed at his thoughts, only surpassed by burning frustration. They needed Leblanc, and he couldn’t get him. He couldn’t get him because snow messed with his senses. It was stupid, it was dumb, it was infuriating. He was weak. 

His jaw clenched again, not under the cold this time, but anger. 

Since he was in the shower anyway, he extended his arm to find soap on the shelf, his fingers encountering an unknown shape, a new bottle. He grabbed it, and the smell of mango and cilantro exploded to his nose. Karen’s new soap. It was too strong in there, too harsh on his nose, but when it lingered on her skin, mingled with her own scent, it was heavenly. 

Matt closed the bottle and took a deep breath, unable to suppress the shadow of a smile. Karen had that power to ground him even when she wasn’t there. 

He tried to use that pause in his rage filled thoughts to try and calm down, breathing deeply, slowly, his eyes closed under the running water. He was not really meditating, but letting his senses, mostly his hearing, lose. Taking in everything, without analysing it. Letting himself drown in this stream of incoherent sounds could be frightening, tensing, but depending on the moment it could also be a relief. No control. No tension, no strain on his hearing, nose, skin, brain above all, to block the incredible, unbearable flow of information. Letting all in, and out, without much consciousness of what happened in between. As if he was an empty hallway. 

The family two floors under was baking a cake with much cries of joy and eagerness - and it smelled good, now he realized he could smell the chocolate and cinnamon that had surely filled his apartment already when he was on the couch. A lone car was going slowly through the snow down a street, a block afar. The wind was still howling, constant, omnipresent, sending snowflakes against walls and windows with a weird dull sound, absorbed by incoming new flakes as soon as it was formed. His old neighbor next door was listening to music. 

Cello. And piano. 

Matt tilted his head, letting his mind concentrate on the music, enough to let the other sounds fade a little. He knew that piece. He’d heard it before. He couldn’t pinpoint where and when, yet the slow tune produced a lump in his throat. He frowned. It was named after a bird… 

_“Put this on.”_ _  
_ _As per her habit now, Elektra bursts into Matt and Foggy’s room without even saying hi. Matt has not warned Foggy - he’s known she was coming as soon as she’s entered the building, and he would have earlier, hadn’t the campus been covered in an almost knee-high, thick cover of snow. Foggy jumps, his heartbeat racing._ _  
_ _“What are you doing here, Elektra?”_ _  
_ _She doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. Matt doesn’t like that. In fact it’s one of the only things he hates about Elektra. Foggy is all he has. But her scent and voice, her mere presence is enough to weaken him and make him want to do somersaults at the same time, and he forgets. He’s almost hypnotised by her perfume, and her spangled dress, that makes any move of her ring to his ear like music. He knows he should say something but it’s always such a joy to know she’s come for_ him _, that his better judgement is often clouded. His curiosity, however, isn’t dampened by her - rather excited, really - and he tries to guess what she’s handing to him._

_“Matt ! It’s a damn tux!”_

_Even Foggy’s curious enough about it to forget to be pissed at her for a minute._

_“Come on, Matthew. We’ll be late. Fashionably late is one thing, but I don’t want to miss the first piece.”_ _  
_ _“What -”_ _  
_ _“Call it a Christmas present. Hurry !”_ _  
_ _Matt rushes to the bathroom - he doesn’t care about undressing in front of Elektra, but he’s been more cautious with Foggy, with the few scars that are now adorning his chest and back._

_He puts the tuxedo on, fiddling with cufflinks, buttons that he has never set his hands on, distinctly hearing Foggy whispering angrily to Elektra. The usual, sadly._

_Matt gets out of the bathroom, feeling quite bundled up in the obviously brand new suit, a piece of silk in his hand : “I, uh, what is that ?”_ _  
_ _“Bow tie, Matthew.” Elektra sighs, but she sounds amused. There's also something - not her heart, it's always so steady - that tells him she's quite pleased with what she's seeing, and he feels his cheeks get warmer. “I’ll help you with this in the car. I also got this,” she gives him a thick woolen coat. “So you don’t look too stupid wearing your awful parka over an expensive suit.”_

_Matt obediently pulls on the coat over the suit._ _  
_ _“Uh, where are we going?”_ _  
_ _“Yes, where are you taking my roommate at seven pm in a tux?”_ _  
_ _“Well, use your imagination, Franklin. We’ll be back later tonight. Or…”_ _  
_ _“Or not, as usual.”_ _  
_ _“Foggy…”_ _  
_ _“Matt, I’m just worried for you, pal. She’s…”_ _  
_ _“Late. We’re late. Goodbye, Franklin.”_

_Elektra grabs Matt by the arm - and he feels Foggy almost bursting, because this is something_ you just don't do to a blind guy (and he's right), _so he manages an embarrassed smile and waves as Elektra drags him through the door._

_He barely has the time to enjoy the crisp air outside that Elektra pushes him into a car. A big car. Limo? No, but not your average New York cab either. Not that he has enough money to take those anyway._

_Elektra gives an address he doesn't know to the driver, and sets out to tie his bow tie._

_Matt marvels at her swift, expert fingers so close to his skin, and his mind can't help but wander towards delicious moments, when they were on it. His cheeks warm up yet again, and he senses her smile. He feels so helpless next to her. A good kind of helpless. But still._

_He has something to say, and he better say it before being with her erases the memory totally._

_"Elektra. You have to stop treating Foggy like that."_

_"Like what?"_

_"I… I don't know, like_ that. _He's my friend, you can't just…"_

_"He doesn't know you. He doesn't_ get _you the way I do."_

_Her fingers are still on the bow tie, almost caressing his throat. Matt gulps. But he doesn't agree._

_"I think he does. Not the way you do, but -"_

_"That's what I was saying. He doesn't."_

_With that, she does caress his skin, and kisses him softly just as the car stops. This time she gently takes his hand in hers to help him out of the car._

_They walk briskly in a building with extremely high ceilings and ringing acoustics - and he gets it when he hears strings from another, even bigger room. He doesn’t want to sound panicky, but his voice is too breathy for his taste._ _  
_ _“Elektra, I don’t think -”_ _  
_ _“I booked us seats at the back. I also have these, if need be.” She takes his hand and places a pair of earplugs in it. There are people watching. “I’m not that dumb, Matthew. I told you I knew you.”_ _  
_ _In fact she drags him to a balcony where they’re alone, as far as possible from the scene._ _  
_ _The orchestra - rather a duet, he corrects himself, just a piano and a cello, and he sighs in relief - is tuning up, and even if it’s just one cello, it’s not nice on his ears, so he puts on the plugs and tries to divert his mind and ears from it._

_“Why did you bring me here? I’m not - this isn’t me. This is not my place. I don’t know shit about classical music. I feel like a penguin you’re trying to teach how to dance.”_ _  
_ _“There’s no dancing here. Only listening, and you’re good at that, no? It’s everyone’s place, Matthew.” She pauses and she smiles, caressing his face again. Matt closes his eyes behind his glasses, focusing on her touch. “I know you don’t know much about classical music. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it. It’s not something that you have to learn before hand. You just have to feel.” Saying this, she takes his hand in hers. Matt can feel her eagerness to share this with him. Under her harsh manners, she’s just a young woman excited to show something new to her boyfriend. Matt relaxes and smiles._

_The musicians are done, and an eerie relative silence takes the whole room. He can hear hearts, many of them beating in anticipation of what’s coming. Everyone is sitting quietly, waiting for the concert to start. It’s a little like mass, there’s something almost religious to it. It makes Matt eager for it to start, too, even if he doesn’t really know what to expect._

_Right before the concert starts, Elektra whispers to his ear._ _  
_ _“This is one of my favourite. Simple, but beautiful and poetic - odd, considering what bigger piece it is from. It’s “The Swan”.”_

A bird. The swan. 

Matt cut the shower with a bitter taste in his mouth, the lump in his throat still there. His mind being brought back to then reminded him of the errors of his past, of what he - they - should - could - have done. It brought to his mind the idea that Elektra was - whatever. 

There had been no corpse. 

He took a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in his closet, and added a pair of thick socks, remarking the smell of Karen’s clothes next to his. He didn’t want to remember Elektra just now, when Karen had just moved in a few weeks prior and it had worked incredibly well. When he’d just realized again, and again for weeks, how grateful he should be for her being there. 

Matt sat on the bed, where Karen’s scent lingered, too. Oddly enough, it made his flat smell a little more like home. 

At the same time, it was still a bittersweet memory. Young Foggy protecting his friend against the evil temptress - it was what Foggy once told him, later, laughing about the stupidity of this statement. How harsh Elektra could be but how sweet she was underneath, when you, too, got to know her for real. The fact that Matt had indeed appreciated this surprise introduction to a totally new part of culture, and that they’d been to another concert later. He didn’t miss his relationship with Elektra ; that was something of the past. But he missed her in the sense of knowing she was alive somewhere. He had been denied even that. He just couldn’t know. 

In fact, somewhere, he still might have a record of cello suites he’d bought after Elektra had left. Other pieces, other composers, that would let him enjoy the kind of music he’d grown to love thanks to her, without having her ghost attached to them. Maybe listening to this would help get all the questions he had about her out of his mind in time for Karen to come back? 

Matt got up and walked to the living room. 

When they’d be settled, when they knew where they were going, he would talk to Karen about Elektra. For now, they had expertly avoided the subject, and he knew it was a relief for both of them. They needed time until they were ready to reopen and inspect old wounds. 

Glad that his fingers allowed him once more to read the labels on his record collection, he found the one he was looking for at the back of the shelf, buried with other reminders of that time in his life when he was still sharing a room at Columbia with Foggy, that felt like it was two lifetimes ago. Matt played the record and let the music cover his neighbor’s, the family gathering downstairs, the roads and the city. Only the cello and the wind and snow assaults on his windows were left. 

  
  
  
  


Karen's mood was down and getting lower. She couldn’t find one of her contacts, and the other had had nothing new for her. The few strands of hair that had got loose from her hat and scarf were frozen - a very uncomfortable feeling. Her hands were freezing, her face was freezing, no cabs in the street, she had to come home by foot. But she was coming home, and Matt would be there in the morning. She was still upset at the idea of him being outside and risking his life, especially by this weather - and to be honest she would always be - but sharing his space, knowing that when he would get back, she’d be there, was a good feeling. 

She entered Matt’s - their - apartment with relief, then stopped. Everything was dark and still, but music, sad music, was playing. She gasped, trying to muffle it. Whoever was there… 

She was reaching into her purse when she saw Matt standing up in the living room, hands out. 

“Karen. It’s okay. It’s me.”   
She sighed with relief, a cry stuck in her throat. Of course Matt wouldn’t put the lights on if he was alone in there. She cursed herself for being stupid. But all her nightmares until now… they had all started more or less this way. 

She closed the door and stepped in, getting rid of her snow encrusted clothes - she could spot Matt had done the same. Trying to shake her fear off her shoulders by doing something mundane, she picked up her and his wet clothes and brought them to the laundry basket. 

When she came back, Matt was standing near a window, head tilted towards the stereo that was still playing. Judging by the frown on his face, she knew immediately. She wasn’t alone in having failed her plans. That made it easier for her, but she knew how bad that would feel for Matt. For him, failure was not an option. He just wouldn’t let that happen. 

On the other hand, it sent a good sign that he was home safe and sound. She wondered what had made him turn and come back. Whatever or whoever it was, she was grateful. 

  
  
  


Matt was torn between his current feeling and the need to hold Karen and reassure her after scaring her this way. 

She’d reached for her gun. That’s how scared she’d been. 

Her heart had calmed down a little when she came back in the room, but it was still fluttering.   
“I’m sorry.”   
He turned from the window, inviting her to come closer, which she did.   
“It’s okay. I kinda should know you don’t need lights.”

She stayed a step behind him. She was still scared. Not by him, but by what could have happened. But she was also wary of him. He could tell, and it puzzled him. 

Then he realized. His contempt for himself, the anger he’d been mulling over while trying to concentrate on the music, it would be visible on his face. He knew, for she’d told him, that he was not the best at hiding his emotions. Matt sighed. He blinked slowly, and passed a hand on his face, then took her hand. A light touch, just a tug, to see if she was coming closer or staying away. 

“If it helped, I could turn on a lamp when I’m here. So you’d know.”  
“You’re rarely there at night when I’m not.” Karen was in his arms, and her heart was already slowing. She turned towards the window and he went along with her move. He also felt himself relax a little, just enough to let himself enjoy this moment. But his guilt was still gnawing. He should be outside. 

Karen must have felt him tense against her back, for she took his arms and made him tighten his embrace on her body. 

“That’s sad.”   
“What’s sad?” 

Going out and not being able to do what he had to? That wasn’t sad, that was infuriating.   
“The music. I don’t know this.”   
“Oh. It’s, uh. A cello suite by Tchaikovsky, I think. I didn’t keep track of the… tracks.”   
“Mmmh. Tchaikovsky.” Karen hummed, thinking. “I know him, but in less sad and more… epic terms? Mmmh.” She fell silent, and Matt just waited for her to continue on her thoughts, happy to feel her relax against him, happy to just have her there. 

Maybe it’d been a good idea to come back, even if he didn’t get what he wanted. 

Maybe he was placing himself first, before the needs of Hell’s Kitchen. Or maybe, he was placing him and Karen first. And part of him felt bad, was yelling at him to turn around and go back outside, but another part was just… happy. Content, here, with Karen in his arms, his nose in her hair. He concentrated on this feeling, trying to make the other part fade out. He had tried. Maybe that was enough for tonight. He’d make up for it when he could. But for now he would enjoy this. 

“Ah yeah, I remember, now. Perfect tune for tonight, in fact. May I?”   
Matt had lost her train of thoughts. He let her leave his arms, puzzled.   
“Uh, yeah?”   
Karen turned off the music and bent over her laptop she’d left on the coffee table. Matt heard her type something.   
“Here. You know that one, don’t you?”   
She returned to his arms as the laptop produced his first high pitched notes. They listened to the music pick up, until Matt recognized the cheerful melody with a smile. 

“Waltz of the Snowflakes. Fitting indeed, although I wouldn’t call this outside a waltz.”   
“Ehhh, no.” Karen chuckled. She was back to her normal self and that was enough to make Matt smile. “You do know classical music, though. I’m surprised.”   
“I had a persuasive teacher.” Matt stayed evasive. “I don’t know that much, though. The Nutcracker is like, level one classical.”   
“Then I’m just level one. It’s my favourite and I won’t let you demean it.” She turned again in his arms to face him, a smile on her face, her heart beating with force as she thought of something. “In fact… I’ve been in this city for years now and never went to see it... “ Matt felt her smile waver. “But I wouldn’t force you into a concert hall, with all these people, all the noise, and the instruments -”   
“Adjustments can be made. I’ve been to concerts before.” Matt shrugged. It was true this experience was first linked to Elektra. But no one was there to stop him from forming new memories with Karen, and if he was allowed to, he would jump on the occasion. “I’d love to go with you. If you want, of course.”   
“Why wouldn’t I want you with me. You can wear that tux you bought for Marci’s New Year party last year that was… fitting…”   
Matt had an embarrassed smile and wince. “I uh. I’d rented it. Sorry.”   
Karen laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Then you’ll rent the exact same again, please, I know you can tell them apart one way or another. And… you’ll help me choose which dress to rent for myself.”   
“Oh, will I?” Matt tilted his head, arching his eyebrows.   
“I trust your taste in silk.” Karen caressed his neck and he forgot all the memories of the past this day had awoken. He wanted to be in the here and now, with her.   
“Not my taste in color. I see.” He responded, making Karen laugh. If he had a favourite music, that would be the one. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cello piece that reminded Matt of Elektra was NOT supposed to be Saint-Saëns's Swan originally, but I still can't find the name or composer of the original piece I had in mind. A lot sadder. Argh. So eh The Swan is good enough and I like Saint-Saëns, also he's French, so it fits with Elektra's upbriging (and uh mine lol Saint-Saëns is what we discover classical music with at school here). 
> 
> I couldn't be bothered to find the actual name of the Tchaikovsky cello suite I'm referencing simply because it's not that important. I do however share Karen's love for the Nutcracker. Don't be mean to Tchaikovsky, Matt. 
> 
> Lastly, the title itself also refers to music, but radically different. It's the title of one of my favourite songs by Pete Seeger, that goes like this:  
> "Snow, snow, falling down  
> Covering up my dirty old town  
> Covers the garbage dump, covers the holes  
> Covers the rich homes, and the poor souls  
> Covers the station, covers the tracks  
> Covers the footsteps of those who'll not be back" 
> 
> And while I didn't really think about it, it feels fitting for at least two of the flashbacks in this story, so I felt I had to tell you if you managed to read all up until here ^^ if you're here thank you and I wish you a great year in 2020 :)


End file.
